


Pawprints in the Sand

by Arystina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: All the Winchesters Hate Witches, Animals, Crack, Dean Hates Witches, Dogs, Gen, Humor, Magic, Mild Language, Multi-Chapter Drabble/Short Story, Pets, Season/Series 01, Witches, just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 6,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arystina/pseuds/Arystina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean get to experience life from a four-legged perspective after a hunt turns bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

* * *

 

Dean couldn't believe it. He'd been shot, stabbed, half-drowned, bashed over the head, and thrown around like a rag doll. He'd even come close to being dinner for several monsters. But this? This was beyond him.

 _Leave it to the infamous Winchester luck,_ he thought sourly, scratching at an ear. _Man, I hate witches…_

Looking down into the pool of water at his feet, Dean studied his reflection with interest. **– _Heeeeey… You know, I actually don't look half bad...-_** He flashed a toothy grin at his brother. **– _Can't say the same about you though. –_**

"Grrr… Ruff ruff," muttered Sam.

* * *

 


	2. A Furry Experience

* * *

 

Sam huffed in annoyance.

He looked like a mutt.

Correction. He _was_ a mutt.

A dark fuzzy face stared back at him from the pool of water, large hazel eyes peeking out from under long shaggy hair, looking lost and innocent, and floppy ears falling down on either side of his head.

Yep. He was a mutt.

 _Not that I'm complaining,_ Sam thought. _It could have been worse._ _Bitch could've turned me into a hairless breed…_

Dean was a bit better off. In fact, he looked quite like a German shepherd, proud stance and all. Except, Sam noted with a twinge of humor, the fur on top of his head was slightly spiked up in its usual hairstyle.

**_-Hey, brushy-top.-_ **

Startled green eyes turned his way. **_–Look who's talking… Mop-Head. Can you even see anything under that hair of yours?-_**

Sam growled. **–** _ **Oh c'mon. My hair's not that long.-**_

**_-Are you blind? You look like a giant dust bunny.-_ **

**_-A dust bunny? Is that the best you can come up with?-_ **

Dean sat on his haunches, sticking his nose up in the air. _**–You're such a bitch.-**_ Then he realized what he just said and let out a bark of laughter. **_–Wow. I guess that really fits now…-_**

Sam rolled his eyes upward and grinned. ** _–But…wouldn't that make you one too, Dean?-_**

**_-Shaddup.-_ **

* * *

 


	3. An Itch that Knows No Bounds

* * *

  _*Scritch, scritch, scritch*_

_*nibble, nibble*_

_*scritch, scritch*_

_*nibble*_

"Grrr…"

_*Scritch, scritch, scritch*_

_*nibble, nibble*_

**_-Ummm…Dean?-_ **

* _nibble, nibble*_

_*scritch*_

**_-What?-_** came the irritable reply.

_*scritch, scritch*_

_*nibble, nibble*_

**_-I think you have fleas.-_ **

_*scritch*_

A pause.

**_-Dammit.-_ **

* * *

 


	4. Intrepid Fleas

* * *

 

Dean's day was officially going to Hell. There was no way anything could be worse than this. Except for being turned into a dog of course, but fleas? Of all things, why'd it have to be fleas?!

He rolled around in the dirt, throwing dust and grit up into the air as he tried to dislodge the pesky vermin that had decided to nest in his fur.

**_-Gah! Get 'em off! Get 'em OFF!-_ **

Sam snorted, trying to contain his mirth. **_–Having fun, Dean?-_**

**_-GAAAHH! Would ya stop sitting there and help me? I…. IIIIIIIIITCH!-_ **

**_-I can see that.-_ **

Dean rolled onto his belly, panting heavily. _ **–Smart-ass.-**_ He blinked. _ **–Hey! I think I got 'em!-**_

Neither of them moved for a moment.

_*scritch, scritch*_

**_-Pie,-_** Dean said suddenly. **_–Pie fixes everything.-_**

* * *

 


	5. The Grand Scheme of Things

* * *

 

Unfortunately for Dean, no pie was to be found. Well, actually there was, in a little pastry shop in the center of town, but he no sooner set paw on the welcome mat when the store clerk came at him with a broom.

"Shoo! Shoo I say!"

Dean growled as he received a sharp swat on his rear and darted away.

Sam had been watching the show from a few yards away, and simply shook his head when Dean returned to his side without even a crumb. **_-Told you it wouldn't work.-_**

 ** _-Ah, put a muzzle on it,-_** Dean grumbled, scratching furiously at his neck.

 ** _-Hey! Hey!-_** Sam jumped away from him ** _. –Keep your fleas to yourself.-_**

Dean said nothing, but stopped, his bright gaze fixated past Sam.

 ** _-What?-_** Sam turned, his own eyes widening.

A familiar black truck was parked on the side of the road, an ever more familiar man jumping out of the cab and heading into one of the shops.

Both brothers stared.

**_-Daaaad?-_ **

* * *

 


	6. Puppy want a Biscuit?

* * *

"All right. Thanks for your time." John Winchester sighed heavily as he walked away from the woman. No witch, no boys, no nothing. He pulled out his phone for the hundredth time that day and flipped it open. "C'mon… _c'mon…"_

" _This is Dean. Leave a message."_

"Dammit!" John ran a hand through his dark hair. He dialed another number and tapped his foot impatiently against the ground as it rang.

" _Hey, this is Sam. You know what to do."_

Screw being angry. Now he was worried. It wasn't like his boys to skip out on a hunt and leave a witch running amuck. Even less for them not to answer their phones.

That meant they were in trouble.

John quickened his step towards his truck, mind set on one thing and one thing only.

So when sharp teeth latched onto his pant leg, he was sent sprawling.

**_-Dad! Dad! Dad!-_ **

The brothers jumped out at their father from under the truck and Dean, in his excitement, bowled over the man and sent him crashing into the asphalt.

 ** _-Dad! Dad, are you all right?-_** They jumped around, yipping happily. **– _Dad! Dad! Dad!-_**

Unfortunately for them, all John heard was "Bark! Bark! Bark!"

"Git off, dammit," He swore and pushed the two dogs away so he could stand back up. At least they weren't vicious. They simply sat down and looked up at him expectantly, tails wagging.

"Look, I don't have anything for you."

One, the dark, shaggy canine, whined and pawed at him.

John sighed. Then something white caught his eye and he reached into the bed of the pick-up.

"Here." He tossed the bone at them. "Enjoy."

Dean sniffed, then glared up at his father. **_–Gee…thanks, Dad.-_**

* * *

 


	7. Silent, But Deadly

* * *

 

A lead! He'd finally gotten a lead. Now it was just a matter of sneaking into the old cottage without alerting the witch of his presence.

John tightened his grip on the handgun.

Piece of cake.

"Grr…"

Or perhaps not.

"Grrr…" The German shepherd's hackles stood up as he caught wind of John's target. "Grrrrrrrrrrrrr…"

"Shut up," John hissed. Damn… He didn't know why these two strays insisted on following him. Even speeding away in his truck hadn't thrown them off. Not a bit.

And if they didn't remain quiet now that he was so close…

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…"

John grit his teeth. "If you don't shut it, I'm dropping you off at the nearest pound."

 ** _-I'd like to see you try,-_** Dean grumbled. **_–Dad or not, I've got teeth and I'm not afraid to use them.-_**

 ** _-Same here,-_** Sam agreed.

 ** _-No…-_** Dean said slowly. **_–You've got gas.-_**

**_-What?-_ **

**_-You're toxic!-_ **

**_-Am not!-_ **

**_-Are too,-_** Dean replied. **_–That's the last time I let you eat a burrito, especially one out of the garbage.-_**

Sam cringed as his stomach churned unpleasantly. **_-Ugh…Don't remind me.-_**

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering about the reference with Sam and gas, just watch the season 4 bloopers. I feel sorry for Jared's coworkers, especially Jensen, because it's always in the car! XD


	8. Expect the Unexpected

* * *

 John had been expecting a great deal of things, but not this.

The witch had been expecting him just as he had feared. However, she hadn't fled. Instead, she had unlocked her front door and settled herself down into a cushioned chair, waiting.

For what, John couldn't even begin to fathom. He carefully edged into the cottage, silver gun aimed steadily at her head, the two dogs behind him growling ever louder with each step. Yet the witch smiled, not seeming at all concerned.

"Why hello, John!" she said cheerily. "It's about time you got here. And you brought company! How delightful…"

"Not mine," John found himself saying, giving her a tight smile. "But I'm sure they'll have no problem tearing you to shreds."

As if on cue, both dogs fanned out from either side, teeth bared.

"Not yours?" she laughed. "You haven't figured it out? Why I'm still here? Why your children suddenly vanished without a trace?"

_No…_

"Yes," she said, leaning forward. "They," she pointed to the dogs, "are your sons."

John's mind drew a blank and he mutely stared down. Two very familiar sets of eyes gazed back, one hazel, one green.

"Oh _Christ…"_

How hadn't he seen it before?

"Think fast." His head shot up at the soft-spoken words and saw a small blur flying right at him. Too stunned to do anything else, he caught it.

A little red pouch.

_Oh shit._

A hex bag.

Suddenly water filled his ears and the world began to spin on its axis. He stumbled, and somewhere he swore he could hear the frenzied barking of dogs.

No, not dogs.

His sons.

The last thing he saw before everything went black was the witch smiling crookedly at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

* * *

 


	9. Papa Winchester to the Rescue!

* * *

 John hurt. Everywhere. Mostly just aches, but his brain felt like it had been scrambled with a spoon.

"Mmff…"

Husky voices floated around him.

**_-I think he's coming 'round…-_ **

**_-Dad?-_ **

**_-Dad, you awake?-_ **

Something prodded him in the side.

 ** _-Go...away…-_** he grumbled. Or growled.

Growled?

Everything flew back to him and he jolted awake, eyes skirting about the old cottage. **_–Where is she?!-_**

 ** _-Gone-_** said the German shepherd. **_–She ran off as soon as you hit the floor.-_**

**_-Dean?-_ **

**_-In the flesh,-_** his oldest piped. **_–Or…is that 'in the fur?'-_**

A dark bushy tail whacked against him. **_–Dude, I seriously doubt this is the time to be joking around…-_** Sam muttered.

**_-Oh c'mon, Sammy. It's a little funny…-_ **

John shook his head, vaguely wondering what the fuss was about, but shrugged it off. The good news was that they were alive. The only problem was that they were both dogs. Speaking of which…

Please, don't let it be true…

**_-Boys…am I—? Please don't…-_ **

**_-Yep,-_** they chorused.

_Damn it all..._

He looked up at them, eyes blazing, as they sat unmoving. **_–Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go get the bitch and fix this!-_**

 ** _-Ahem…-_** Sam shifted as he tried to contain his laughter. Dean snickered.

 ** _-WHAT?-_** John bristled. They didn't have time for this nonsense!

 ** _-Take—*cough*-a look.-_** Dean moved aside to reveal a small mirror reclining against the wall.

_Oh no._

Large dark eyes widened even more from where they sat atop a slender black muzzle. An ebony little nose twitched in horror, fluffy ears flattening behind a small head, and a tiny heart could be heard beating a hundred miles an hour.

To make it all the worse, there was the ridiculous hairstyle to complete the image, like little pom-poms adorning his frame…

A poodle.

The great John Winchester had been reduced to a damn poodle.

* * *

 


	10. Use That Sniffer!

* * *

 

**_-Don't say it. Don't say a word.-_ **

Sam and Dean cast each a sidelong glance and, as ordered, wordlessly followed their father down the street, trying to ignore the pom-pom tail that bounced up and down with each step John took.

 ** _-First thing's first,-_** John said, **_-we need to find this witch and force her to change us back.-_**

 ** _-How?-_** asked Sam.

John stopped and turned. **_–Do what dogs do. Use your nose.-_** He sniffed at the air.

And sniffed.

So hard it ended in a snort, and John coughed as he inhaled mucus. **_–Damn small nose.-_**

 ** _-That's not the only thing that's small,-_** Dean muttered.

**_-What's that, boy?-_ **

**_-Nothing, sir!-_ **

The brothers copied their father's previous action, hoping to catch a whiff of their enemy.

Sam's tail rose. **_–Hang on. I think. I think I got something…-_**

_Sniff, sniff…_

**_-Well?-_** John pressed.

_Sniff, sniff…"EEE-achooo!"_

John and Dean jumped in surprise. Sam hung his head, nose dripping and eyes turning red. **_–Nob…sowrry.-_**

_"EEE-achooo!"_

**_-What's wrong with you?-_** Dean asked.

**_-Pollen.-_ **

**_-Dammit,-_** John swore again. **_–Dean?-_**

 ** _-On it.-_** Dean raised his nose to the wind.

_Sniff, sniff…_

_Sniiiiiiiiiffff…_

**_-Heeeeyy…-_ **

**_-What? What?!-_ **

**_-I smell…I smell…one juicy bacon cheeseburger with a side of curly fries.-_** Dean grinned. ** _-Oh yeah!-_**

John sighed. **_-So much for that idea.-_**

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...after uploading this chapter for the first time back in 2009, I was told that poodles used to be hunting dogs. Oops. But then, John isn't usually a poodle, so just assume he's still got his human sense of smell. ^^;


	11. A Not So Gourmet Meal

* * *

  _Scritch, scritch, scritch…_

_Scritch, scritch, scritch…_

_Nibble, nibble…_

The persistent sound awoke John from his nap and he cracked open an eye to see his oldest furiously scratching himself.

**_-What's wrong with you?-_ **

**_-Fleas.-_** Dean said, pawing behind an ear.

**_-Wonderful.-_ **

Light paw steps turned the corner of the alleyway and Sam bounded up to them, a paper sack in his jaws.

 ** _-McDonalds?-_** John asked dryly. **_-Let me guess: you got that out of the garbage?-_**

 ** _-Hey, it's food,-_** Sam protested ** _. –Plus, you'd be surprised what people throw away..-_**

 ** _-Dude, I think I'm gonna be sick,-_** Dean mumbled as he ceased his itching, and John could only bob his head in agreement.

 ** _-Fine. Starve then.-_** Sam dropped down and pulled out a half eaten hamburger. **_-Mmmff…it's not bad…-_** he said between bites, **_-when you get past the gag reflex.-_** He nosed a tray of fries towards them. **_–Want some?-_**

Dean wrinkled his nose, but at a rumble of his stomach, decided to take a nibble.

**_-Dad?-_ **

John cringed. **_–Nah, you enjoy yourselves.-_**

 ** _-You sure?-_** Sam asked.

**_-Quite.-_ **

John turned his head aside as his sons ate. His own stomach was growling, informing him that he was indeed hungry, but he wasn't ready to bring himself to the point of eating garbage.

Besides, someone had to take care of the boys when they got food poisoning.

* * *

 


	12. First Time for Everything

* * *

  ** _-I don' feel good…-_ **

Four words. John and Dean stopped in their tracks and looked back towards the younger hunter, wincing in sympathy.

 ** _-What about you, Dean?-_** John asked.

**_-I'm fine. But I didn't eat as much as Sam.-_ **

**_-Think it's the burger…-_** Sam moaned. **_–Guess it was too good to be true…-_**

 ** _-What did you expect?-_** John asked. **_–It was in the garbage for a reason.-_**

**_-Ugh…-_ **

Dean couldn't help but smirk at his sibling's dilemma. So, he had fleas, Sam had nausea—they both suffered. And their dad? Well…he was small in all proportions.

 ** _-What're you grinning at?-_** John eyed his oldest suspiciously.

 ** _-Ahh, nothing.-_** Dean's head swiveled. **_-Hey, look! Mailman!-_**

Sam sat down, panting. **_-…What?-_**

Dean's ears pricked forward in excitement at the sight of the mailman not twenty feet away headed up the front steps of a house. **_–I always wanted to do this!-_**

A knot of anxiety formed in John's gut. **_–Do what?-_**

But, canine instinct taking over, Dean was already off and around the bend, set on scaring the living daylights out of the poor mailman.

**_-Dean!-_ **

Too late.

But perhaps the mailman wasn't just a helpless guy in a blue uniform. He whipped out a small silver canister. "Take that!"

A stream of water hit Dean square in the face. **_–Ahh! I can't…see!-_**

The mailman tucked the can away and strode out of the yard, whistling a merry tune.

John rolled his eyes. **_–Dammit, Dean! This is no time to fool around. Now get your ass back here…-_**

Dean shook his head a final time to clear his vision and trotted back. **_–Yes, sir. C'mon, Sammy!-_**

 ** _-Ugh…-_** Sam cautiously stood back up, not trusting his stomach. - ** _Do I have to?-_**

 ** _-Yes,-_** John said tartly.

Sam reluctantly followed behind, Dean falling back to walk alongside him.

 ** _-You're such a girl,-_** he muttered.

 ** _-And you're a jerk,-_** Sam replied. **_–I can't believe you wanted to chase a mailman.-_**

**_-Bitch. If you haven't noticed, I'm a dog now. Chasing mailmen comes with the territory.-_ **

**_-So does chasing cars. Going to be suicidal next?-_ **

**_-Oh, shove it, geek boy. And I swear if you throw up on me, I'm gonna kill you…-_ **

**_-Uh-huh. …Fleabag.-_** Sam willed his swaying paws to pick up the pace, and the three Winchesters headed on down the street.

Unbeknownst to them, parked on the corner they had just left behind, was a white truck, bold black lettering on the side spelling out two words that all canines dread:

**City Pound.**

* * *

 


	13. What a DogGone Day

* * *

 

**_-Dean? Dean, what are you doing? Dean, get back here!-_ **

Sam sighed as John literally barked at his hyperactive sibling. Dean was happily yapping, running ahead, and even chasing his own tail, acting very much like the dog he currently was.

**_-Man, this is awesome! Sam, c'mon! It's fun!-_ **

**_-Dude,-_** Sam muttered, ** _-you're easily entertained…-_**

 ** _-Ya only live once, Sammy,-_** came the giddy reply. **_–And I've never had so much fun before!-_**

 _Never been able too, more like,_ Sam thought glumly. Which was true. Dean was taking the time now to experience the childhood he never had.

Much to John's displeasure.

**_-DEAN!-_ **

Dean either didn't hear him or didn't care, the latter being the more likely. Sam winced in his sibling's defense. John was seriously going to chew him out for that.

 ** _-C'mon, man,-_** Sam called, taking a breath to quell his nausea before adding, **_-Dad's right. We need to keep moving.-_**

 ** _-Ahhh, all right.-_** Dean grudgingly turned back towards them, furry sides heaving. **_-I'm good now.-_**

 ** _-Good,-_** John grumbled in annoyance. **_–And—_**

He broke off abruptly as a white vehicle suddenly pulled up, eyes widening at the stark black letters on the side – **Pound.**

_Pound? Shit, shit shit!_ **_–DEAN! Move!-_ **

Fortunately Dean wasn't so lost in his puppy-dog antics that he didn't see the man jump from his vehicle, a long pole with a noose in hand. He instantly ran over to his brother and father, but the dogcatcher wasn't far behind.

And he wasn't alone, another man following with a similar device in his hand.

 ** _-Damn it! This way, boys!-_** John turned a sharp corner and darted down an alleyway, eyes darting around, looking for some sort of escape.

There it was—a break in the boards in the building's side. **_–This way!-_** The two men wouldn't be able to fit themselves through there.

He sprang through. **_–Sam! Dean!-_**

Dean jumped forward and crammed himself into the space, which was rather on the tight side for his large canine size. **_–Grrr!-_**

**_-C'mon, c'mon!-_ **

Just outside, Sam shifted skittishly as the dogcatchers entered the ally, cornering them. **_–Move it, Dean!-_**

 ** _-Ahh!-_** Dean disappeared, and Sam immediately followed, paws scrambling.

But it was just his luck, wasn't it? He didn't fit. Where Dean had had a hard time, Sam had the misfortune of being just a couple inches bigger.

 ** _-Sam?_** \- John barked. Sam pulled back out. **_–SAM!-_**

 ** _-Sammy!-_** Dean shoved past his father.

**_-No! Dean!-_ **

Dean ignored him and stuck his head back through the hole. **_–Saaamm!-_** He struggled to pull himself back out into the open. **_–Saaammmmyyy!-_**

His cry broke off with a yelp as one of the dogcatchers took the opportunity to loop the end of the pole around his neck and drag him out.

**_-Dean…-_ **

Sam's voice was barely audible above the curses of the dogcatchers and his sibling's growls, but Dean heard him, and went into panic mode as the second man approached. **_–Move, Sam! Damni it, move!-_** He lunged forward, teeth snapping at the pole that held him captive. **_–Sam!-_**

Sam, however, couldn't move. He froze where he was, limbs rigid with fear, eyes slightly glazed over. Through his terror he could hear Dean's frantic cries, could see the dogcatcher advancing on him, ready to snatch him. But, try as he might, Sam's legs wouldn't obey his instructions to _run!_

**_-Oh God…-_ **

He tried to will his body to cooperate with his screaming thoughts, opened his mouth to speak, but neither came.

Instead, his stomach chose to rebel against him, and he threw up.

* * *

 


	14. A Mutt's Lullaby

* * *

 

**_-Ohhh…-_ **

**_-Sam? Sam, you okay?!-_ **

Another groan. **_–I think…-_** A retching sound filled the air. **_–Ugh...I take that back.-_**

Dean pawed angrily at his cage, struggling to reach his sibling.

The back of the truck opened and the two dogcatchers stuck their heads in.

"Oh, man! What a mess…" groaned the first one.

The other grimaced at the sight of Sam. "This poor fellow's sick. My guess is he ate something that didn't go over well."

**_-Hear that, Sammy? You're as sick as a dog.-_ **

**_-I AM a dog... Jerk.-_ **

**_-Bitch.-_ **

As the two men reached out to his sibling, Dean growled fiercely at them. **_–Don't you dare touch him!-_**

They turned towards Dean's cage.

"He's got a hell of a temper, I'll give him that."

"Sure won't go over well when finding a home…"

**_-Temper? Let me out of here and I'll show you temper!-_ **

"Yep, that one's got issues."

Dean growled.

"Whatever. We'll deal with him inside. Come on, boys. Time to see your new home."

Sides heaving, breath coming in small short wheezes, John stood outside the pound, watching helplessly as his sons were pulled out of their cages and dragged into the facility.

His body tensed, a fire igniting deep in his stomach as he prepared to charge the two men holding his sons, but realizing that in the end it would only leave him in the same predicament. He was a friggin' poodle, and charging a couple dogcatchers as such was about as good as jumping off a plane without a parachute.

He needed a plan, and fast.

A sudden breeze picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees, and along with it came a familiar scent. John inhaled deeply.

The witch.

Glancing once more towards the pound, his sons disappearing through the double doors, John made a decision. If he tracked down the witch, he could reverse the spell.

He only hoped that his boys could hold out until then. Turning his paws, he headed off in the direction of his target.

Dean paced.

Sam moped.

Steel bars separated them, their kennels set up across the hallway from each other and beyond each other's grasp.

**_-You okay, Sammy? You look kinda…peaky.-_ **

Sam's ears drooped down. **_–I've been better.-_**

**_-Gonna puke again?-_ **

**_-I don't think so.-_ **

**_-That's good.-_** Dean slumped down. **_–One highlight in this shit hole...-_**

They quieted, listening to the barks and whimpers of the other canines imprisoned. Dean groaned, annoyed, but the sounds only worsened as soon as the lights were shut off for the night.

" _Arrooo!"_

" _Arr, arr, arroooooooo!"_

" _Arrooooo!"_

 ** _-SHUT UP!-_** Dean roared.

The howls cut off.

Dean smiled contentedly and curled up on the concrete floor.

" _Arrroooo!"_

" _Aroo, arooooo!"_

Dean snarled viciously and Sam clamped his paws over his ears.

It was going to be a _loooooong_ night.

* * *

 


	15. Of Loneliness and Retribution

* * *

 

The next morning, Dean's eyelids hung heavy, weighed down by lack of sleep. Sam hadn't fared much better, but the good news was that he no longer felt sick.

From the looks of things, that was about as good as it was going to get. And if the brothers knew anything at all, it was that things could always get worse.

They were right.

"Look, mommy! Look at the doggy!"

A little girl rushed up to Dean's kennel, sticking her face really close. Dean, irritable from the night, instinctively growled at her.

Her mom instantly pulled her back. "Be careful, honey. Let's find a nicer dog. What about this one?" She pointed at the cage beside Deans, at a pudgy basset hound.

"No."

"That one?"

"No."

"How about this one?"

"No."

The girl looked around, her eyes finally resting on one she liked and she pointed. "I want that one."

Sam's eyes shot open. **_-Dean…-_**

One of the dogcatchers who'd caught them the previous day moved to open Sam's kennel.

Dean leapt up. **_–Sam! Run!-_**

Sam rushed forward as the door swung inwards, trying to push himself past the man, but a hand quickly found it's way around the scruff of his neck and pulled him back.

"Hey, boy. Where do ya think you're going in such a hurry?"

Sam writhed, but was thwarted as a collar was tied around his neck and a leash attached. He sat, defeated.

 ** _-Sam! Sammy!-_** Dean pawed furiously at his cage.

"Hush up in there!" The dogcatcher slammed a fist against the door, then passed the leash end over to the woman. "Here ya go," he said. "Better hold on tight. He might try and sneak away from you."

"Thank you."

The girl ruffled the fur on Sam's head. "I'm gonna take good care of you!"

Sam cast a sad look back as he was lead away, and Dean's tail drooped low in response.

He was alone.

* * *

 ** _-C'mon, c'mon…-_** John ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, darting under brush and dashing around fences. He was close; he knew it. And from where the scent of the witch was taking him, he realized she'd let her guard down.

They were back at her house, where the whole mess had begun. He scrambled up on the log pile outside the window and peeked in.

Sure enough, she was hunched over the dining table, crooked finger trailing down the stained pages of an old book, muttering to herself. Suddenly, she turned, and John ducked low to avoid being seen. The door swung open beside him, and he nearly tumbled over in surprise, but the witch, in a hurry it seemed, didn't notice and quickly hobbled down the path and toward the town.

Now was his chance. He leapt off the wood and pushed the door open, heading straight for the table. Jumping up onto a chair, he nosed the book open and peered at the pages.

At least he was still able to read as a dog. His eyes skimmed over the pages, taking in the Latin verses. **_–Great! A spellbook…-_** With his nose, he turned the pages, until he found what he was looking for and tore it out.

"You!"

John nearly leapt out of his fur. The witch stood in the doorway, face livid when she saw the paper in his jaws. "Gimme that!"

She made a dive for it, but John, for once finding an advantage to his small size, sprang out of her way and through the open door, the angry shouts of the witch falling further behind him.

**_-Now to find someone to read this aloud…-_ **

* * *

 


	16. Bad? Not Even Close

* * *

 

_This is bad. This is very bad._

Sam paced the foyer of his new 'home,' claws scratching against the linoleum. Dean was still trapped at the Pound, their father was out God-knows-where, and he was…a pet.

The girl stuck a rawhide under his nose. "Here you go, doggy! It's beef; very yummy!"

_Yeah, I'm sure._

The girl looked defeated, but her mother said, "Give him a chance, sweetheart. We are strangers to him after all."

"At least want to see your new home, doggy? C'mon!"

He felt a small hand curl around his collar and try to tug him along, but he thwarted her efforts by plopping his furry butt down. Now it was like a butterfly trying to move a stone.

The mother only shook her head. "Just give him time."

Time. He didn't need time. He wanted out! Sam stood up and moved towards the door.

_*Click!*_

The leash again.

_A leash._

It was…it was degrading! He was a person, for crying out loud! Not some mangy...

Dog…

_I hate this…_

"Mom, he wants to go out!"

"Coming."

Sam heaved a sigh.

Out the door they went, the mother taking the lead and the little girl bouncing beside him with a big grin spread across her face. The leash length flapped against his side, a spike of irritation making itself known as they headed down the sidewalk.

"You need a name, doggy!"

"What about Pumpkin, sweetheart?" asked the mother, giving another tug of the leash. "Or Sasquatch, since he's so big?"

Sam snorted at the second one.

"No…" The girl fiddled with one of her blonde braids. "I was thinking Pooh—"

_God no!_

"—but he doesn't look much like a bear," the girl finished. "Maybe…"

Sam let his mind wander as the two continued spouting ideas for names and instead focused more on escaping should the chance arise. Then he'd look for his father and come up with a plan to spring Dean from the Pound.

Talk about laughable. However, it was the wrong place and time to joke.

"I know!" the girl said suddenly, "I'll name you Mr. Cuddles!"

Sam cringed.

"Oh! And one more thing!" They stopped, and the girl reached up to pull something out of her hair.

-Oh no…- Sam resisted the urge to pull away. Honestly, he didn't know what was worse—the name…or the satin pink bow that was now being placed to tie his shaggy hair up and out of his face.

"Now you can see where you're going!"

_Somebody help me now…_

* * *

_This is bad. This is very bad…_

Dean paced in his cage, a low growl rumbling from deep within his throat. Sam was gone. Their father was out roaming the streets. And himself? He was trapped at the Pound, waiting to be adopted.

Though—that was looking to be very doubtful.

Dean's ears pricked forward as employees gathered near him and talked amongst themselves.

"The German shepherd, the one you brought in, he's vicious…"

"We need room…"

"Maybe it's just a mean streak, just give him a few days to adjust."

"A few days, but if he doesn't change—"

"—Put him down."

Dean didn't need to look around to know they were speaking about him.

_Shit._

* * *

 


	17. Dog Speak

* * *

 

As he ran down the street, John wasn't quite sure how he'd go about getting someone to read the paper out loud to him. It was in Latin after all, and who the blazes really knew Latin these days?

When he saw a woman getting out of her vehicle though, he headed directly to her, figuring now was as good a time as any.

"Rrr-ff, rrr-ff!" John barked from behind the paper he held so tightly in his jaws. "Rrr-ff!"

"Oh!" She jumped at his sudden appearance by her side and looked around. "Where'd you come from?"

"Rrr-ff, rrr-ff!" John barked again. **_–Read the paper!-_**

She saw the sheet and pulled it gently from his jaws. "What's this?"

"Arf, arf!"

Her eyes scanned over the page, her brow wrinkling in confusion. Then, to John's dismay, she began to crumple it up.

 ** _-Nooooo!-_** He gave a wild yelp and ran around her in circles. **_You need to read it, dammit! READ IT!-_**

"Yip yip yip yip!"

The woman frowned as the dog went from friendly to wild as she started to roll the nonsense paper into a ball and throw away. She stopped. "What?"

"Yip yip yip!"

She held up the paper. "Don't throw this away?"

"Grr…"

Smoothing it back out over her knee, the woman looked over the strange words again. "I can't tell what this says."

"Yip! Grr…"

"Okay! Okay…" So she read.

She couldn't explain why she did it, cause she honestly had better things to do than amuse a dog, but that was just it. This little canine didn't act like a normal dog, and she should know, having two Labradors of her own.

The words were foreign to her, and she stumbled over them, but as the language echoed around her, the dog began to change.

With the incantation finished and a gray fog suddenly hanging heavy in the air, she watched, frozen in place with a rising fear and obvious curiosity.

In the dog's place now stood a man. A very _naked_ man.

She screamed.

* * *

 

Dean sat very still in his kennel. Deadpan.

_Please adopt me. Please adopt me._

Curse him and his stubborn pride. It was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. Yet, the idea of being someone's 'pet' revolted him.

Didn't help matters that the Pound employees had noticed his constant scratching.

"Damn it, he's got fleas!"

 ** _-No shit, Sherlock.-_** He grumbled.

Which was heard as a growl.

Dean swatted himself mentally. He obeyed every order his dad threw at him, so why was it so hard to be the 'good dog?'

He sighed and lay down, draping a paw over his face. _Sam…Dad…where are you?_

* * *

 


	18. Change of Circumstances

* * *

 

Not wasting any time, John snatched the paper away from the still shrieking woman and took off, heading for the nearest cover if any description. He should have expected something like this. Yes, he certainly should have.

At least he was human again; now he could find his boys and save them. Well, find some clothes and _then_ rescue them.

It was a shame he couldn't hang around longer though. He'd like to know the woman's thoughts about what had happened after she got over her initial shock.

To say that Sam was unhappy was an understatement. First the long hair, then the awful name, and now the ribbon… Damn, he felt like a girl.

Dean's voice floated through his head. _You're such a girl, Sam._

Sam grinned at that memory. He didn't mind that so much, except if Dean actually caught him looking like he was now. _That…_ he would never be able to live down.

He stopped in mid-step then, his nose wrinkling. _Dad?_

There was a sharp pull on his leash. "C'mon, Mr. Cuddles!"

The scent wafted towards him again. - ** _Dad. Dad!-_**

It was certainly stronger than before, and lacking the distinct canine smell. He pulled towards it.

"No, no, Mr. Cuddles!" cried the girl. "Mom!"

The woman hooked a hand around his collar. "Oh no you don't," she said. "I think it's time we went back home."

Sam could only give a muffled whine as she pretty much dragged him back towards his new home.

On the opposite side of town, Dean found his time was rapidly running out.

He had failed.

Too aggressive the Pound employees declared. Too wild.

He was to be put down that very afternoon. Dean shrugged it off though. He'd had close encounters with death before. Why should this be any different?

And he was right. Somewhere, a familiar voice reached his ears, and he pricked them forward, listening intently.

"I'm looking for my so—dogs. Maybe you've found them? One's a large chocolate long-haired mix, and the other's a German shepherd."

"Collars?" asked another voice.

"No. They uh…slipped out of their collars during their walk and ran off."

"This way, please."

Dean tried to peer around the corner, and jumped up in delight when his instincts proved correct. **_–Dad!-_**

"Hey there, Dean!" John knelt down and pressed a hand against the cage, relieved.

"He's yours?" one Pound official asked, a bit stunned.

"That he is," John answered. He stood up and scanned the other cages. "I don't see my other s—dog though. Where is he?"

"The shaggy one?" the employee scanned over his clipboard. "Oh. I'm sorry to say that he's been adopted."

"By whom?" John pulled a scrap of paper and pen out of his 'borrowed' clothes and scribbled down the address.

The other man pointed at Dean. "Good thing you got here. This one was going to be terminated just hours from now. Lucky him."

John's eyes widened marginally at that news. "Yes. Lucky. Now give me whatever paperwork that needs to be filled so I can take him home."

* * *

 


	19. Touché

* * *

 

Sam figured this was the worst situation he'd ever been in. After returning to the house, bowls of water and kibble had been shoved under his nose. His only response to that was to wrinkle his nose in distaste and move into a corner of the living room to lie down, wishing he could simply disappear.

He didn't have anything against the small family who'd taken him in, though the girl was a bit too happy for his tastes, but to all intents and purposes he was a dog, except for his state of mind. He would deal with it, for now. If he knew anything at all, it was that his father would never give up until both his sons were back by his side, no matter what the circumstances.

 ** _-Took you long enough,-_** Dean barked jokingly as he and his father exited the Pound. **_–I was beginning to worry I'd run outta luck.-_**

"Stop your yapping," John muttered, opening the passenger door of the Impala. "I can't understand a word you're saying, remember?"

**_-Oh, sorry.-_ **

John shook his head. "And watch your claws! If you scratch the seats, I swear…"

Dean knew exactly, and gingerly clambered in and sat down. His father would kill him if anything damaged his baby. Why, Dean would kill himself too. It had already made the both of them writhe when Sam had spilled a bit of water in the back. Poking holes in the leather seats was out of the question.

 ** _-Now what?-_** Dean asked.

John frowned at the low barks and growls the German shepherd was directing at him, but he had a vague idea of what his son was going on about. "I got the address of the family that picked up Sam. We're going there first before I change you back."

 ** _-Sounds good to me.-_** Sammy was first and foremost on his mind anyway. Always was.

"Dean…"

Dean turned to his father.

"Stop…barking…"                  

With that, John reached forward, popping in a cassette tape, and Metallica soon blasted from the speakers.

Dean resisted the urge to sing along, or rather, _howl,_ in his case.

It didn't take long for them to reach their destination. John opened the door for a very antsy Dean, and together they hurried up the steps of the front porch, the same thought going through each of their heads.

_Please let Sam be here._

Without a moment's hesitation, John rang the doorbell. A woman answered.

"Yes? Who are you?"

John took a breath. "I'm looking for my dog. Large, dark long fur… The Pound said you adopted him earlier today."

"I—"

A shaggy head stuck out the door beside her, and Dean gave a small yelp. **_–Sammy!-_**

 ** _-I knew you'd come,-_** said Sam.

**_-Of course! Who else would save your furry butt?-_ **

**_-You're such a jerk.-_ **

**_-Back at you, bitch.-_ **

The brotherly banter went on, and John was left to work out an agreement with the woman…and deal with a rather upset little girl.

"Hush, honey," the mother told her child. "If the dog is his like he says he is, then we can't keep him."

"But Mom!-

"No buts. We can always get another."

"Thank you," John told her, "and here…" He shuffled through his wallet quickly and handed her a couple bills. "Sorry for the mess." He then held down a hand. "C'mon, Sammy. Let's go home."

Home… Sam wagged his tail and followed. Sure, home wasn't a nice house with a picket fence, but it was where his father and brother were, and it's where he would be too.

"Bye, Mr. Cuddles!"

Sam didn't look back.

Dean blinked. **_–Mr. Cuddles?-_**

**_-Don't ask.-_ **

His sibling's lips curved back into something akin to a smile. **_–I take it then you don't want me to ask why there's a pink bow in your hair either?-_**

Sam cringed. He'd forgotten about that.

* * *

 

Half an hour and a couple Latin words later, Sam and Dean found themselves back on two legs once more, only their memories as canines remaining. John congratulated himself on checking them all into a motel room, because, just as he'd suspected, they transformed back completely lacking in their clothes. Both blushing furiously, the siblings retreated to quickly throw some cover on.

"Can't say I'm not going to miss being a dog," Dean said. "It was kind of fun. Except for the…you know…doggy death row gig."

Sam plucked the bow out of his hair, tossing it aside in disgust. "I'm not. Think I'm going to have nightmares…"

John shook his head. "At least you weren't a poodle."

Dean grinned. "I'm not going to forget that one. That's too awesome to forget. Same goes for Sam's pet name." "

Sam scowled. "Great."

"Mr. Cuddles…"

"Shut up."

Dean chuckled, then broke off with a hiss, scratching furiously at his head.

_*scritch, scritch*_

Dean realized he was being stared at, and it dawned on him. "Damn it."

John grinned. "What was that you were saying about how you're going to miss being a dog?"

"You know…" Sam said, trying to stifle a laugh. "Dog shampoo works wonders for fleas."

"I am _not_ using dog shampoo!" Dean protested.

"If you say so, fleabag," laughed John. "And when you've finished scratching away there, we still have ourselves a witch to kill."

Dean growled, near ready to clawing his scalp apart. "Yeah, yeah."

_*scritch scritch*_

_*scritch scritch*_

_*scritch*_

 

 

_~fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20 will be a humorous little tag with poodle!John. I figured I'd just post it as part of this instead of separately.


	20. It's A Wonderful Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100-word drabble tag that was written long after 'Pawprints in the Sand' originally ended. Doesn't necessarily follow the story. It was written just for fun really. :P 
> 
> Poodle!John.

* * *

 

John Winchester had to protest. This woman, she couldn't possibly… No! It was out of the question. But the way she looked at him, adoration shining bright in her eyes, he knew it to be true, and he objected.

"Aww! Aren't you the sweetest thing!" was all she said, and reached her meaty hands to grab him.

Then John found himself squished against her large bosom.

He was about to demand she set him down, that he wasn't a lapdog, but found the situation very…pleasant.

 _Ah, what the hell._ And the toy poodle curled up, soft snores filling the air.

* * *

 

 


End file.
